Aftermath
by QuikSylver
Summary: Yet another story about what happens post season five. The Shanshu Prophecy fulfilled, who lived and who died, etc, etc. Please read and review. Discontinued because it was terrible. I will keep it as a reminder of how dumb it was.
1. Aftermath

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Angel/Buffy. Any characters that are not from those shows belong to _me_.**

Angel stumbled away from his latest kill. It would be his last – at this for this battle. He looked around wearily, running a bloody sleeve across his bloody face in a futile attempt to wipe the blood and gore away.

Gunn was lying several feet away, collapsed against the wall. He was dead. Angel closed his eyes, feeling a pang of grief. Would there be no end to these useless deaths? he wondered, even though, in his heart, he had known Gunn would die before the battle ended.

Illyria came to stand beside him. Her blue and brown hair now had several other shades mixed in it and... was that entrails? He decided not to look too closely. "They were many," she remarked. "And yet we won." She turned to look at the vampire. "Ironic, is it not?"

Angel nodded, too tired to speak. He couldn't see Spike, but then again all vampires turned to dust when killed... Despite what would have been expected, he felt a small amount of grief for the sarcastic vampire.

But no – ahead of him, beneath the body of one of the numerous demons, he saw a flash of Spike's bleached blonde hair. Of course he would still be alive – not Wes, or Gunn, but_ Spike_! Spike, of all people!

"My pet has survived," Illyria observed. "I will go help him." She walked away, stepping on severed heads, broken weapons and God knew what else.

"Yeah, you... do that..." Angel mumbled, shaking his head. For some reason that he couldn't explain, he was happy that the strange being called Illyria had survived, apparently unscathed by the intense fight.

Angel looked up and saw the sun beginning to come up over the horizon. "Damn it!" he snarled, suddenly angry. After all this, he would _not_ be killed by the sun! "Illyria, hurry," he called. "The sun's coming up!"

With those words, he turned, picked Gunn up and ran (well, it was more like a fast walk) down the alley, to the Hyperion. He wasn't sure why, but after he had taken over Wolfram & Hart, he had kept the hotel.

He stumbled inside the familiar glass doors just as his back began to smoke. He could only hope Illyria would bring Spike back in time... Or actually, that she would be too late and he would burn up.

Reverently, he laid Gunn on one of the couches outside his former office. That would just have to do for now, he thought, exhausted. Then he slumped to the floor, unconcious.

When Angel woke up, he found himself lying in his old room. "What...?" he mumbled, sitting up slowly – anything faster than slow would have caused him too much pain.

Illyria was sitting in the corner, which he found incredibly disturbing. "My pet is fine," she assured him gravely. "He is my guide now."

Angel's face showed his confusion. "I thought Wes..." Then he remembered. "Right," he muttered, swinging his legs off of his bed and standing up. "Where's Gunn?" he asked.

"Gunn and Wesley are in the entrance of this building," Illyria replied. "This grief... It tears at me, like some kind of parasite. Will it not leave me alone?"

Angel shook his head, not in the mood to explain things. "Ask Spike," he said, shuffling past and out into the hall.

Illyria followed him. "My guide is resting. His transformation into a human seems to have had some unexpected side effects."

Angel stopped. "Transformation?" he repeated disbelievingly. "But that wasn't an apocalypse!"

Illyria studied him with her large blue eyes. "He is human," she stated calmly. "I care not for old prophecies and what they have to say."

Angel felt his fists clench and forced them to relax. He had signed that prophecy away when he had joined the Circle of the Black Thorn, so it seemed fitting that it go to the other vampire with a soul – Spike, of course.

Illyria was still watching him. "Will you continue to stand there all day, or are you planning to move sometime soon?" she asked.

Angel sighed and went to the lobby to see the bodies of two of his dearest friends.


	2. Interesting Developments

Angel stood motionless before the bodies of Charles Gunn and Wesley Wyndam-Price. Spike couldn't see his face, but he could imagine what it looked like. Probably that intense, brooding look that signified he wasn't in the mood to talk. Actually, now that he thought about it, Spike realised that Angel always seemed to get that look when he was around.

He shook himself out of his thoughts. That was just too bad for the vampire, he'd just have to deal with it.

Spike walked slowly down the stairs, still feeling a little strange. He couldn't believe how different being a vampire was from being a human! There was the whole lung/breathing thing... He might have to stop smoking... Nah. But still.

"Go away, Spike," Angel said, his voice cold. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"That's not very nice, peaches," Spike said, grinning. "Where would I go?"

Angel turnd to face him, and Spike saw that he was right – he did have the dark, leave-me-alone-I'm-brooding look on. "Just... go," Angel snapped before turning back to Wes and Gunn. "Outside, somewhere!"

"It's weird... Being able to go into the sun again, after a hundred and twenty odd years," Spike remarked casually, coming to stand beside Angel. "Maybe you should try it sometime... Oh, that's right. You can't, because you, stupid git that you are, signed the prophecy away," he sneered.

Angel turned so fast Spike didn't see him move. "Get out!" he snarled. "Now!" He was practically shaking with anger.

"Hey, whatever you say, mate." Spike grinned again and strolled out, into the sun.

For some reason, goading Angel hadn't been as satisfying as he'd thought it would be, and now that he had left, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. Maybe he'd go pay Wolfram & Hart a visit, see what the Senior Partner's had done with the place.

A while later, Spike stood before the building that had once housed Wolfram & Hart, Attorneys at Law.

"A lot of good things happened there," he mumbled, pulling a cigarette out of his coat pocket. He fumbled for his lighter, but he couldn't find it. He'd probably lost it during that fight. Anyway. "I was ghost... That was sort of fun... Lorne lost his sleep and made Angel and Eve... Urgh... Not that funny... That sod, Lindsey... He made a fool of me... Not that funny either... Fred died, Illyria came..." he rambled on for some time before coming to the conclusion that the time he had spent in the building was not good at all. In fact, he felt a little sad about all that had happened through those vampire-safe glass windows. "What a bleeding heart I'm becoming," he grumbled under his breath and walked away, thoroughly disgusted with himself.

"Where is my guide?"

Illyria's question startled him out of his dark thoughts. He hadn't even heard or smelled her coming... But then again, she had no scent. "I don't know," he muttered, turning to face the ex-god. "He went out."

Illyria nodded slowly. "I heard you yelling. Why do being on this dimension yell when they are angry?"

"I don't know." That came out more sharply than he had intended, but he was still hurt about the deaths and Spike's fulfilling of the Shanshu Prophecy. "Why don't you go find Spike and ask him?" Angel suggested, trying to soften his voice.

"I was going to, but I thought you might know where my guide is," Illyria replied, then walked over to stand beside Wesley and Gunn's bodies. "What will you do with them?" she asked suddenly, turning. "Bury them in the ground, like you do with all your dead? Let them be a feast for the maggots that live there? That is a stupid custom. It is not a way of honoring them." With these words, she turned and walked out, leaving Angel alone once again, to contemplate her words.

Spike found himself by the docks, drawn to the old factory where that crazy Slayer, Dana, had cut off his hands. He hated this town. So many bad things had happened, mainly to him, and he wished he could leave, but where would he go? Things had seemed so much simpler when he'd been a soulless vampire. No morality questions, he could take what he wanted, do whatever he wished...

He sighed and sat on an empty crate in the shade of a warehouse. He was tired, but he hadn't been walking that far. Probably that whole humanity thing.

He laid his head back against the cold brick of the wall and found himself falling asleep.

That whole humanity... thing...

Illyria tracked her guide to Wolfram & Hart, ignoring the stares of the general Los Angeles pedestrian population as she made her way through the streets. It didn't occur to her that they were doing anything out of the ordinary by staring. Way back when, when she'd been the Big Bad, people had stared at her all the time, in awe of her power and ruthlessness. At least, they had until she'd burned a couple of worthless half-breed's eyes out.

After several more minutes of tracking, she saw that the trail led to the docks. She wondered why the half-breed-turned-human who was her guide would want to come here. She remembered, or rather, Fred remembered, finding Spike with his hands cut off, tied to some pipes. She remembered the feeling of revulsion and pity that Fred had felt, but she couldn't understand it.

The Old One found Spike sleeping against the wall. She crept up beside him and shook him. "Wake up," she said, accentuating the words with another shake.

"Wha..." Spike's eyes flew open. "Oh. Hey, love. What can I do for you?"

"You are my guide," Illyria said simply. "Guide me."

"Guide you where?" Spike asked, standing up.

Illyria paused. "You had affection for this... shell. Winifred Burkle. Did you not?"

"Yeah... You asked me that before, when I was... testing you." The man winced at the memory. He shuddered to think what would happen if she attacked him now that he was human.

"Affection like my previous guide?" Illyria asked.

"Uh... Sorry, what? Don't think I heard you right." Spike looked uncomfortable. This seemed to be headed in an all too disturbing direction.

"Affection like my previous guide," Illyria reiterated, watching him closely.

"Er – no. Can't say I did," Spike mumbled. "Hey, here's a thought: Why don't me and you just... go back to the hotel. Comfort Angel, be the good friend, you know?" Not that we ever really were good friends, Spike thought.

Illyria nodded slowly. This was interesting. She would have to probe this further, but at a later time. "Yes," she agreed, then turned and walked away. Spike had no choice but to follow.

Once Illyria was gone, Angel turned to go back upstairs to his room to brood in solitude and peace – but then he heard the doors open. He turned back around, about to say, "What do you want now?!" but stopped when he saw who stood there.

A girl of about nineteen, maybe twenty, walked through the doors toward him. "Nice place," she commented, looking around. "Not my choice, but hey." She smiled lazily. "Angel, right? Drogyn's friend, the one who killed him."

Angel blinked, a little off balance, but quickly recovered. "That's right..." he muttered. He had been trying to repress that particular incident. "But who are you? You knew Drogyn?"

"Knew him? 'Course I did. I was his apprentice."


	3. What She Needs

Angel stared at the girl standing before him, his shock written all over his face. It wouldn't have been more apparent if she had suddenly taken out a huge red Sharpie and printed the word across his nose.

"Don't feel the need to stare or anything," she said drily, shoving her hands into her pockets. She was wearing a black hoody with the words NATIONAL SARCASM SOCIETY printed in big letters across the chest, then in smaller letters Like we need your support and a pair of faded and torn black jeans. Her shoes looked like they had seen better days, and were black as well. Her hair was (surprisingly) black, with several streaks of silver that reminded him a little of Illyria, excepit it was short and spiky. That part reminded him of a bush... Albeit a very pointy one. Her eyes were intelligent, and silver too.

"What? I. Er. That is," Angel stuttered.

"I take it that means the Guardian didn't mention me. Typical. Probably spouting all his glowing comments about _Gordon_," the girl grumbled. She rolled her eyes as she said the name, obviously scornful of this Gordon. "I swear, if I didn't know better I'd think he was in love with the idiot."

"H-He didn't mention anyone," Angel finally managed to say. "Gordon or otherwise."

The girl raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's all right, I suppose." She sounded a little surprised.

"So, why did you come here if you're Drogyn's... apprentice?" Angel asked, trying to sound all confident and in control. It didn't seem to work.

"Drogyn died, as you know," she began. "And he was... training, I suppose you could say, a couple of people to take his place, in case he was killed. He couldn't die, y'know, being immortal and all that. 'Course, we couldn't ask 'cause he'd just chop our head off or something. Anyhow. He started out with ten or so, but inevitably one would slip up, displease him or something, and BAM!" She drew a finger across her throat, the universal sign for death. "Then there was me. And Gordon." Her eyes narrowed as she said the name again, and Angel got the feeling that she really didn't like this guy, whoever he was.

"We saw you, and that blonde guy, Spike, right? He wouldn't let us talk to you though. Something about me scaring you off and whatnot. So he dies, and you know who the Powers make the new Guardian? _Gordon_! I'm not even kidding you, this guy's a complete idiot!" The girl's voice had grown steadily higher as she went on until she was practically yelling.

She took several breaths, calmed herself, then continued. "I'm pretty pissed off now, I mean I'm the one clearly more qualified to have this job, right!" Angel felt himself nod. He was too intimidated by the strange girl to do much else than agree with her. "So me, I go to one of the Oracles, guy named Wenzell. I ask him why the hell the Powers appointed that imbecile, and you know what he says? 'You have a higher purpose. We just needed you to be trained by Drogyn.' Can you believe that!" She took a couple more deep breaths. "So I'm like, 'Yeah? Train me how?' 'cause I already knew all the stuff he'd 'trained' us to do. And so Wenzell says, 'You will realise the truth when you are ready to.' So I say some choice words and ask him what my 'higher purpose' could possibly be. 'Helping one who killed Drogyn,' was his reply. That's you, so here I am." She paused, then studied him. "You need help with anything?"

Angel was a little overwhelmed. This girl was pretty forceful, and he wasn't quite sure how to respond to her question. Sure he needed help, but she couldn't give it to him! "Erm... What did you say your name was?" he asked instead.

"Oh right, it's--"

"Taywen." The two looked up to see Illyria and Spike, who had entered unheard a couple of seconds earlier.

Taywen frowned. "Illyria," she said coolly.

Spike looked from one to the other. He was getting seriously uncomfortable with this whole situation. First that incident back on the docks and now this... The stranger and Illyria seemed to be having a staring contest.

"You two know each other?" Angel asked, breaking the heavy silence that had descended on the four. "Are you... Uh... Friends?"

"Friends?" Illyria laughed coldly. "If you mean friends in the sense of the saying, 'Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.'"

"Ah," Angel muttered. "Well, you seem to have a lot of catching up to do, so why don't I just..."

"Yeah, I'll, um, go with him," Spike agreed, and the two started to edge away.

"Stop," Illyria commanded. "You must stay, my guide." 'My guide' seemed to be turning into some kind of pet name, like 'my love'... but in a guide-y way.

"Guide?" Taywen looked over at Spike, who shifted under her intense scrutiny. "What happened to the first one? Oh that's right, he was killed by your second guide. But what happened to your second one?"

"He was killed by the sorceror Vale," Illyria replied. "And now he is my guide."

Taywen nodded. "Never liked Vale. Of course, Gordon is so much worse than Vale."

"Gordon?" Illyria repeated. "That traitor is still around?"

"And kicking, sad to say," Taywen said in a voice of long suffering. "He's the new Guardian of the Deeper Well."

"That would make sense. He wouldn't want any of the ones like us who are stuck in the Deeper Well to escape. Most want to kill him," Illyria remarked.

"Even more than would want to kill me," Taywen agreed in a depressed voice. "Do you know how morally degrading this is! Admittedly, he has more reason not to want any Old Ones getting out, but _come on_! He's such an imbecile!"

"On that, we are agreed."

"Uh, not to interrupt or anything, but is there a reason you're here... Taywen, is it?" Spike asked, fast becoming impatient with their small talk... If that's what you wanted to call it.

"Oh, right. Sorry." He also noticed that depending on who she was talking to, her tone changed noticeably – cool, almost impolite, to Illyria, pleasant and at ease with him and Angel. "After I was 'let go' in favour of Gordon, the Powers approached me in the form of a seer, a shapeshifter whose name I don't know. This seer told me that I had a higher purpose, that I was supposed to help the hapless... Or was it the hopeless...? Anyway, this shapeshifter told me that I had to tell the vampire with a soul that the first Slayer needed help..." She paused. "I pointed out to the guy that the first Slayer was in fact dead, but he said the first of this generation. Something about her dying twice and whatnot."

Spike was listening now – this was about Buffy! "Yeah? Did this seer fellow say anything about a handsome ex-vamp?" Angel had reappeared as well, although he remained silent. He had a hopeful look on his face, but that could be attributed to the fact that he was hoping Spike wasn't included.

"Mm... Nope. Nothing about the handsome, anyway. He said that the being called Illyria, the vampire with a soul and the former vampire who accompanied them had to-"

"Whoa, whoa. Hold on jus' a sec!" Spike protested. "_Accompanied_! They said I accompanied Illyria and that grand poof!"

"I am not a poof!" Angel snapped.

"Or something to that effect," Taywen said with a shrug, quickly diffusing the situation. "Back to my story... Oh wait, it's done. And here I am." She smiled that lazy, laid-back smile and gave a little bow.

There was a moment of silence, then, "Let's go. If Buffy needs our help then-"

"Ah, not so fast, Angel," Taywen cut him off. "For one thing... Daylight. Two, you don't even know why she needs help. Maybe she needs something that's only located here in Los Angeles, and if you rush off you won't get it to her."

Spike stifled the urge to laugh; he wasn't sure if making fun of Angel was a good sport at the moment, what with him being all weak and human.

Angel nodded slowly. "So what does she need from here?"

Taywen blinked. "Er... Need...?"

"You said she needed something from Los Angeles," Spike said impatiently.

"Oh... Well, that was hypothetical."

"You never ask me what _I_ need," Illyria muttered.

Spike laughed, but it sounded a little fake. He pretended not to have heard Illyria's comment. "What's the girl need help with this time, then? 'Cause I'm not in the mood to burn up closing a Hellmouth again."

"Really? That's too bad. Guess you'll have to stay behind then. That's exactly what you'd be doing."

"Burning up!" Spike asked incredulously. "She needs me to burn up! _Again_!"

Taywen shook her head. "Well, not _that_ part," she said, as if it were obvious. "But the Hellmouth-closing part? Yeah, you'd be doing that."


	4. Cleveland

"So... You're telling me Buffy's been running around closing Hellmouths?" Spike said, looking dazed.

"Well, yes. And actually, she's in Cleveland right now. Bonus, hey?" Taywen smirked.

Illyria glared at Taywen. "There is something you are not telling us," she stated.

"Illyria, I'm all hurt inside," the girl said mockingly, clutching a hand over her heart. "Really, I knew you didn't trust me, but trying to corrupt others against me..."

"Spare me the theatrics," Illyria snapped, her tone icy.

"All right, I'm leaving a couple of unimportant little details out, so what? The just of it is that the Slayer needs your help," Taywen retorted caustically, all traces of a smirk gone.

"So we should leave, now," Spike interjected, against his better judgement. He got the feeling a person would find themselves in a very uncomfortable position if caught between the two.

"Yes," Taywen said, all calm and collected once again. "I've got a car, but it hasn't got tinted windows or anything."

"That's what blankets were made for," Spike remarked.

The girl looked slightly disturbed. "I thought they were made for... Never mind," she mumbled.

"Wait," Angel said, speaking for the first time in a while. "Does she need anything? I know you said it was hypothetical, but you never know."

Taywen looked thoughtful. "Well, unless you want to bring the amulet. You could always wear it, Angel," she said innocently, but he didn't notice the gibe.

"Do you really think it'll help?" he asked uncomfortably. He didn't really want to become ethereal, like Spike had, and Lindsey wasn't around to do some magick spell to make him corporeal again. Lorne had seen to that. He wondered where the green-skinned demon had gone. Not Vegas, surely, but maybe to another city in California... San Francisco, maybe? Didn't really matter.

"It was a joke. Ha ha?" Taywen said drily.

"Oh. Right. Let's go." Angel started towards the front doors, but stopped when she caught his arm.

"As I said before, _sunlight_!" she said, looking amused. "Maybe Spike's suggestion would come in handy?"

Angel blinked, then went over to the hook behind the counter and put on his black leather coat. Taywen raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She looked amused for some reason.

"Cleveland," Illyria said. "This... city has a Hellmouth? Why was I not brought there?"

"No idea. If I'd've had any say, you wouldn't have been brought anywhere."

Illyria ignored that and strode out, followed by Spike.

"Coming?" Taywen asked Angel. He stood silently, staring at the bodies of Wes and Gunn. "I can freeze them in time, if you want. So no moldering and whatnot."

Angel looked up, startled. He had been deep in thought, apparently. "Yeah, please," he said distractedly, then walked past her, through the doors. Luckily, it was cloudy outside, so no risk of bursting into flame for the souled vampire.

Taywen smiled grimly and mumbled a couple of words under her breath. A silver light spread over the two corpses and they disappeared. Then she too walked out, leaving the hotel empty behind her.

--

**Cleveland, Ohio**

Spike didn't know how long they'd been driving – too long, that was for sure. He was crammed in the back seat of a Mini Cooper, beside Illyria, and it sure as hell wasn't comfortable at all! His legs were cramping and he was crushed like a tiny sardine next to the Old One who had first called him her pet, and then her guide... And then Angel wondered why he was so strange.

"Are we there yet?" he groaned, shifting slightly, trying to find a better position. Of course, Angel was in he front seat, perfectly comfortable. The stupid git got everything.

"A couple more miles," Taywen replied without turning, although he saw her eyes flick up to regard him briefly through the rear view mirror. That was a blessing, he supposed – having a reflection.

Angel's voice was muffled by the fact that he was huddled under his coat, but still audible. "How much longer until we get there?"

"I don't know, all right? Soon," was Taywen's annoyed reply. She'd had to answer those questions gods knew how many times throughout the ride. "And the sun's gone, so take off the coat."

"Gone?" Angel pulled his coat off and looked out the window. A huge black circular cloud spread for several miles around the upcoming city, making it seem like midnight. "It's like Jasmine all over again," he said, then realised no one present had been with him when the Power had tried to take over the world, with the possible exception of Illyria, but he wasn't sure if she remembered that or not.

"Almost makes a fellow wish he were still a vampire," Spike remarked, shifting again.

"Stop moving," Illyria said. "It is uncomfortable enough without you bumping into me."

A muffled chuckle came from Taywen's direction, but it was cut off as they entered the city. Fires raged in the streets, demons ran rampant, terrorizing the people who remained. There was no power, and bodies lay rotting, left where they'd fallen.

"You were bloody well right the girl needs our help," Spike said from the back. He was the first to recover from the shock.

"Over there," Illyria said. "Slayers, fighting Turok-Han." Spike glanced over and saw that she was right.

"Stop the car," he snapped, shoving Taywen's seat to make her stop.

"All right, all right!" she growled, slamming the brakes. She practically fell out of the car, and Spike emerged a moment later.

Angel appeared beside them, followed shortly by Illyria.

"What are you lot waiting for? What if Buffy's--"

"She's not. I would be able to smell her," Angel stated, crossing his arms. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to help the five Slayers who were battling a score or so of Turok-Han.

"Are you feeling all right?" Spike asked. He thought that Angel would have been the first to jump at helping a Slayer.

"I'm fine," Angel snapped. "You want to help them? Go help them!"

"Well all right then," Spike muttered, starting toward the battle.

"Wait." Taywen caught his arm. "You're human, remember? Weakened, blah blah blah. Get it?"

Spike sighed. "Oh, right." He looked at Illyria. "Will you...?"

Illyria studied him silently for a moment. "You assume much of me," she said. "Yet something inside me wants to go help the two Slayers. Very well."

"Now I feel obliged to help," Angel muttered angrily. If Illyria helped and he didn't, how would that look?? "What are those things anyhow?"

Taywen grinned. "That's the spirit," she said mockingly. She went over to the car and opened the trunk, revealing an impressive array of weaponry, considering the location. "They're superstrong vamps. Harder to stake, behead, etc. You've got to really poke with the stake. Plus, stronger than your average vampire," she explained. Angel nodded.

Illyria selected a heavy-looking broadsword and a stake, while Angel opted for a double-headed axe. He tucked a couple of stakes into his pockets.

Taywen didn't take anything, but offered a cross, a bottle of holy water and a stake to Spike.

"I feel useless," he said, accepting the items.

Taywen smiled. "Ready?"

"Not in the least," Spike said dismally. "Shall we?"

"I believe we shall," Taywen said. "They seem to have noticed us."

From farther down the street, another group of Turok-Han were running towards them.

"They think they can defeat us," Illyria remarked. "How stupid they are, worse than humans." She raised her sword.

Angel rolled his eyes and raised his axe as well.

"You should stay behind them, Spike," Taywen suggested, drawing an ornate sword from seemingly no where. Spike saw a leather belt with several blades strapped to it flash into being. He blinked, and it was gone.

"Yeah, right," he agreed, quickly turning. "Er, maybe not." The other Turok-Han had dispatched three of the five Slayers and the bulk of the group were making their way towards them.

"Hmmm... All right, me and you get to take these, hey?" Taywen said, smirking. "Want a sword?"

"Seems like a sound suggestion."

She took a katana out of the trunk and handed it to him.

"Ok, I'll take the ten on the left, you take the four on the right," she ordered.

"Hardly seems fair," he protested.

Taywen scoffed. "To them, maybe."

Then the Turok-Han were on them.

--

Angel and Illyria stood back to back, close, but not touching.

They seemed to anticipate the other's moves, ducking when needed as they hacked and slashed at the Turok-Han. Angel could hear the sounds of Spike and Taywen fighting somewhere behind him, but they were too distant to make out.

He smiled grimly, however, whenever he heard the tell tale dying hiss of a Turok-Han collapsing into dust.

--

Spike ducked as a Turok-Han struck out at him with those vicious claws. He remembered all too well when he had been tortured by the First, through a Turok-Han. He swung his katana at the creature's head, lopping it off. It collapsed into dust.

Beside him, he could hear Taywen swearing under he breath as her sword worked furiously to repel the super vamps, punctuated by the sound of the strange, clicking language that the Turok-Han spoke and by the shriek of a dispatched vampire.

--

They fought for many minutes, although it seemed like hours, before all that remained of the Turok-Han were piles of grey dust.

Taywen glanced over at where the two remaining Slayers had been fighting and saw that only one was left. She looked at Spike, who was leaning against the car, breathing hard. He would be fine. Illyria was standing impassively beside him, looking no worse for the wear, and Angel was seated on the hood.

"Do you want to go see if she's okay?" she asked him.

Angel looked over and got up. Without a word, he walked past.

"Well fine," Taywen said.

The girl looked up as Angel approached. She couldn't have been over seventeen, and although he smelled her fear, she raised her sword wearily. Her hair was dark brown, as were her eyes. Her clothes were too dirty to tell their color.

"It's all right," he said. "We're here to help."

She studied him warily. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"Angel."

Her eyes widened slightly. Apparently she recognized his name. "I'm Meghan."

He nodded. "Is Buffy here?"

"Yeah... I'll take you to her if you help me with..." She couldn't finish, and he saw tears in her eyes.

"Of course," he agreed. He waved for the others. "If we help her carry the other Slayers, she'll take us to Buffy," he explained.

"Wonderful," Taywen murmured, but he couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

"That's Taywen, the blue-haired girl's Illyria and the blonde guy's Spike," Angel told Meghan, who gave a small wave.

She bent to pick up one of the dead Slayers, a red-haired girl who looked about eighteen. "Anita," she mumbled.

Angel picked up a girl with purple-dyed hair. "That's Josie," Meghan said to him. Then she pointed to the next girl, whose hair was the exact same shade as Buffy's. "Carla." A girl with short, dirty blonde hair. "Lauren."

Taywen took Lauren, while Illyria Carla.

Meghan then led them deeper into the ruined city. To Buffy.


	5. Angel!

The group travelled silently through an even more silent city, four of them carrying the corpse of someone not long ago living. The fifth was empty-handed, save for a katana that he held tightly.

The five made an odd-looking group to be sure; one girl looked not even eighteen, with brown hair and tired but determined etes. Another carried herself proudly, for what had this Old One to fear of any weak demons of this plane? The third was slouched as she bore the dead girl in her arms. Her spiky hair looked more disheveled than most spiky hair, and her silver eyes were unreadable.

The first man, stocky and tall, also had an air of indifference about him as his dark eyes scanned for any danger. The last, slightly shorter than the first man, seemed depressed. His bleached-blonde hair was unkempt and he looked the most weary, after the young girl. Suddenly, he spoke. "Like a ghost town, eh, Angel?"

Angel didn't even bother looking his way. "Yeah," he replied abesently, shifting the girl in his arms into a more comfortable position.

Spike tried again. "How much further? My feet are killing me. And now that I'm all human, I might actually die."

The girl with silver eyes raised an eyebrow. "From feet?" she asked skeptically.

Meghan the Vampire Slayer answered, "A couple more blocks."

"More building and stinking bodies?" Spike grumbled. "Bloody boring after a while."

"I didn't used to think so," Angel remarked. "Then I went and landed myself with a soul... Redemption, atonement, blah, blah, _blah._ You know the rest."

The Old One turned to stare at the vampire with her piercing blue eyes, but said nothing.

"And now you're running around preventing things like this from happening, right?" Taywen muttered, her silver eyes troubled.

"Something like that," Angel said, a grim smile playing across his face.

They continued on in silence, turning down an alley when they were suddenly surrounded by twenty-odd armed Slayers ranging from fifteen to twenty years old.

Out of the door at the end of the alley came...

Andrew.

"Meghan... Spike! Angel! Two exotic women!" he exclaimed, hurrying forward. "You should have told me you were c oming! I would have-"

"Enough, Andrew, really!" snapped an irritated, English-accented voice. Rupert Giles, more commonly referred to as simply Giles, Buffy's former Watcher, stepped out of the door behind Andrew.

"Oh, Giles, this is all just a big misunder..." Spike trailed off when one of the Slayers levelled a crossbow with his heart.

"I told you I would never want your opinion... But never mind! What are you doing here?" Giles demanded, ignoring Andrew. "I don't recall seeing Wolfram & Hart on our list of allies. Michelle! Get away from them!" Meghan stepped away obediently.

"It's Meghan," Andrew whispered. "And we don't have a list of allies, Giles."

Giles cast an imperious, Watcher-ish glare the young man's way. "The point is, we don't trust you."

"You said she needed help!" Spike hissed accusingly to Taywen.

"Well," she mumbled, fidgeting a little. "I may have left out the not so unimportant detail of her not trusting you... It seemed unimportant at the time... I mean, Old Ones used to get along fine without trust..."

Illyria turned to stare disbelivingly at Taywen. "I have been carrying the dead shell of someone who means nothing to me but something to a person we are supposed to be helping but does not truset us for _nothing?!_" She looked incredibly angry – or possibly joyful. Who could tell?

Taywen shrugged. "Yeah. Pretty much," she agreed calmly.

Illyria dropped the body of the girl instantly, which caused a bit of shock to pass through the assembled Slayers, Watcher, and blonde-haired men. Angel and Taywen remained unsurprisaed. The latter's mouth twitched, almost a smirk.

"Er... Where's Andrew gone off to?" Spike asked uncomfrotably. Then he noticed a girl standing near Angel. "Hey, Rona. You remember me?" She didn't react at all. Not a good sign. He tried again. "You know I would never be willingly involved with these-" He was cut off again by the sound of cracking bone as one of the Slayers beside Rona gave a strangled shriek, her hands moving towards her neck, and crumpled to the groun, her neck snapped.

Angel smiled an entirely un-Angel-like smile, looking satisfied. He had dropped his dead body as well.

"Angel?!" Buffy appeared behind Giles, along with Andrew. "What did you--?!"

"This is what comes of consorting with evil!" Giles hissed. "No matter how many good deeds you do, you'll always be gray!" He blinked. "Or rather, no matter how much white you add, it only takes a small amount of black and you'll forever have gray!" There was a moment of silence as the people within earshot tried to figure out how this was relevent to the topic.

"Yeah, but if you add some sparkles, you'll get silver," Angelus sneered.

Spike's face registered only shock. "But... Angel... How the bloody hell did you lose your soul?! Again?!"

Angelus shrugged. "True happiness, blah, blah, blah. The usual drill." He rolled his eyes. "Say, how would you like to become a vampire again? No lousy chip to hold you down unwillingly, no lousy soul to hold you down willingly..."

"Capture him... All of them!" Buffy ordered. "And throw them in the dungeon!"

"Buffy? We... We don't have a dungeon," Andrew mumbled.

"It seemed like a good effect." Buffy cleared her throat. "The basement then! Somewhere secure and out of sight!" she growled.

"But I'm a human! A real, genuine human!" Spiek protested. "I don't deserve this."

"'Cause he's a real boy!" Taywen muttered in a high, cartoonish voice.

Illyria glared as four Slayers produced four ropes from... somehwere and began to bind her hands. "I will rip out your eyes when I escape, then your teeth. After, I will slowly cut off every digit on your hands and feet, then the arms and legs..."

Taywen stared straight at Giles as the Slayers bound her hands but didn't seemed to have any sarcasm in store for such an occasion.

"I'll escape. And you know that when I do, you'll wish your friends were dead," Angelus snarled ominously, yet made no attempt to escape, or even struggle, either as they tied him up.

"Leave Spike," Buffy said, before whirling around and stalking inside, Andrew and Giles following a couple of paces behind.

Spike looked uncertain, then followed as well.

The remaining Slayers escorted Angelus, Taywen and Illyria inside.

--

They entered a kitchen and Spike realised they were in a hotel. He thought of Gunn and Wesley, who, for all he knew, were still decomposing in the front lobby. He still couldn't believe Angel had lost his soul for the... third time, was it?? The guy was so irresponsible. The real question was, When did he lose it? At the hotel? When they had been fighting the turok-Han? After the battle? Before that? Recently?

Spike shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. Not something pleasant to think about, not when Buffy was so near. She was as good as his, with Angel gone and all. He smiled. Things seemed to be going well for him, at this point.

_Author's Note: Thanks to all who reviewed! Sorry about the delay with this chapter, I was grounded for a week... But I have learned my lesson now._

_Also: Please forgive any typos, etc. My word processor doesn't have a spell check and I suck at proof reading... lol_

_And I _had _to have Angelus! Sorry if it's a disappointment to anyone, but he's so much better than Angel._


	6. Only Death Wins

The Slayers escorted them into the basement, where they saw a cage in the corner, much like the one at the Hyperion, where Angelus had been kept (unsuccessfully) last time Angel had lost his soul. On the opposite wall there were two sets of shackles bolted there. with about two feet of slack.

Taywen and Angelus were led there, while Illyria was led to the cage. It had five locks of varying degrees of security, and looked very imposing.

"This could turn out to be disturbingly erotic," Taywen muttered as first she, then Angelus were chained to the wall. The vampire just laughed.

Illyria was put in the cage, which took considerably longer, because the Slayer in charge of the unlocking and locking had to find the proper keys for each lock, then figure out the combination for the fifth. The other Slayers were silent, but the one with the keys seemed to consider the task of unlocking a couple of locks required profuse swearing.

After at least ten minutes, the door was opened and the blue-haired Old One was shoved in. Then came the re-locking, which took considerably less time, since all the Slayer had to do was push the locks together. She placed the keys on a hook just out of reach of the two chained to the wall.

All the Slayers left them then. The door closeing, shutting out the light, seemed ominous. Or it would have if all the beings assembled down there hadn't been able to see in the dark.

"Again! That Slayer has an obsession with chains when it comes to me," Angelus remarked.

"That's... great... really..." Taywen mumbled, inching as far away as the chains would allow.

"she likes to hold you hostage?" Illyria asked.

Taywen made a noise half way between a snort and a cough.

"For a very different reason than what you mean," Angelus replied, his tone unreadable. It could have ranged from anger to amusement. When he escaped, he would take the one called Illyria with him, and possible Taywen. It seemed like they would fight on whatever side was open to them.

Footsteps could be heard outside the door, then it swung open to reveal...

Meghan.

The young Slayer slipped silently down the stairs, closing the door softly behind her. When she reached the bottom of the stairwell, she flicked the light switch then went and stood before Angelus. "You're a vampire," she said quietly. "Why do you act like you do?"

"Why is the sky covered by a huge black cloud," Angelus retorted.

"Evil," she mumbled.

Angelus nodded. "Very good," he sneered.

Taywen wanted to say something, but decided against it. She had a feeling she knew where this conversation was leading, and the outcome was almost definitely in her favour.

"Mr. Giles and all the other Watchers... They always say evil is bad. It is, but at least evil's open about it. Good? It hides behind a facade of benevolence, helping if and when aid is to its advantage," Meghan continued softly. "Sometimes I wonder if there's really a difference between the two. Isn't it evil to send us to our deaths to prevent the deaths of others? The only things that can ever really win in a place like this is just that: Death." Her voice had a definite tone of bitterness to it.

Angelus smiled coldly, displaying teeth that were just slightly to long and sharp. He knew where this was going as well.

"So, I figure that it doesn't matter when I do, what choices I make. Really, the only choice is how I let death win."

"And how do you want death to win?" Angelus murmured. This was getting better and better.

The Slayer looked the vampire straight in the eyes. "I think you already know." She grabbed the keys off their hook. "Now the question becomes... Will you do it?"

Angelus studied her determined face, a thoughtful look on his face as he pretended to mull it over, even though his mind was already made up. "Yes," he said at length. "But only if you unlock me."

Meghan shook her head. "Nope. You'll have to wait for me to rise again."

Angelus smiled again. She was intelligent, at least. "Very well," the vampire said.

Meghan clutched the keys tightly in her right hand and produced a dagger with her left, probably from a sheath at the back of her belt. She slit her right wrist, transferred the keys and held her bleeding wrist out to him.

"Ugh! Get a room!" Taywen growled, unable to stay silent any longer as she tried (unsuccessfully) to turn away. They made chains so damn short these days!

Angelus' eyes became the predatory gold and the familiar ridges appeared. He took her hand, bringing it slowly to his mouth, his eyes never leaving her face. He paused, as if thinking, her arm an inch from his mouth, then without warning jerked her forward. She stumbled into his chest and he sank his fangs into the soft skin of his neck.

Illyria watched in fascination, wondering at the fact that, despite everything, the Slayer had not cried out, or made any sound for that matter.

After several moments Meghan shoved herself away, swaying slightly from loss of blood. "And your part?" she asked, a bit breathlessly as she tried to pull her hand out of his.

Angelus smirked, licking the blood from his lips, then he bit his lip, hard, and pulled her back against him, pressing his lips to hers.

"Again, get a room," Taywen complained, looking a little green, not that anyone was paying her any attention. Illyria was riveted to her spot against the bars of the cage.

The vampire released Meghan and she collapsed to the floor.

"You didn't kill her," Illyria was quick to note. "You will release me when you're free?"

Angelus shrugged, bending and deftly plucking the keys from her grip. He sucked his lip thoughtfully as he unlocked his shackles. "If you will join me."

"I will join you," Taywen said immediately, not that this surprised him very much. She was an opportunist

He quickly unlocked her, but not before asking, "What happened to the 'higher purpose?'"

"I don't work well under pressure and it seemed like a high pressure job." Angelus laughed while unlocking her.

"And you, Illyria?" Angelus asked coolly, turning to regard the being in the cage.

Illyria's face was unreadable, but he had a feeling she was weighing the odds, figuring out which was more profitable to her. "Yes," she replied simply. "Now, unlock the door!"

Taywen raised her hand. "Problem. Combination lock."

Angelus rolled his eyes. "Not for long. You could easily destroy it, couldn't you?"

The girl glanced at him. "What makes you think that?"

The vampire returned her gaze squarely, unfazed by the dangerous note in her voice. "If you can somehow lock two objects outside of time, I doubt a tiny combination lock would slow you for any amount of time. In fact, you probably could have gotten us out by now if you had really wanted to."

She grinned. "Fair enough. But they probably have magic detectors somewhere in this building, and that would surely set them off."

"Then unlock the other four locks and then do the numbered one!" Illyria snapped impatiently.

Angelus looked to the Old One. "Someone's grouchy." But he seemed to know what she meant, for he walked quickly over to the cage and was soon down with the locks.

"All right, treacherous Taywen, hurry up and destroy the last lock," Angelus said.

"Treacherous? Me?" Taywen protested, producing a matchbook from her pocket. She struck one, then held it beneth the lock. She whispered a word and the small orange flame flared, becoming silver. She quickly drew her hand back as the melted metal dripped to the ground, smoking faintly.

Illyria shoved the door open and stalked out.

"All right, let's go." Angelus started for the stairs.

"You're just gonna leave her?" Taywen indicated the dead Slayer.

He barely paused. "Why ever not?" Then he disappeared up the stairs, apparently expecting the Old Ones to follow.

"Should we help him?" Taywen mumbled when she was sure he was out of earshot.

"Angelus is more like I used to be, on a much smaller scale. They fear him," Illyria replied.

"That doesn't answer the question."

Illyria shrugged, something she had obviously picked up recently. "Will _you_ help him?"

Taywen looked thoughtful. "Possibly. Although it looks like he's a 'hand's on' type of guy, and I hate work in all forms."

"That does not answer the question."

She stared at Illyria, then rolled her eyes. "Copying me now, are you?"

"Possibly. Although it looks like this will fast grow tiring, much like the shrimp dimension."

"Don't even mention that place!" Taywen exclaimed vehemently, a horrified expression on her face. "I was imprisoned there for fifty years!"

Illyria shrugged again. "That is not such a long time."

"It is if everything's made of shrimp!" Taywen retorted.

Illyria just looked bored. "Perhaps we should go?"

As if to punctuate the point, a girl's scream was heard from above.

"Quickly, I suppose," Taywen sighed. "More work."

The two ran up the stairs, almost into a group of a dozen Slayers.

"Again with the running," Taywen muttered, as she and Illyria ran for the kitchen and the back alley.

--

Spike was ushered into Buffy's room, which was on the top floor of the hotel, in the most luxurious suite. He didn't remember Buffy being into things like this, but the last time he had seen her, apart from five minutes ago, was when he had been bruning up closing a Hellmouth, roughly a year ago.

He found Dawn, Xander, Willow, Buffy and Giles, in short most of the surviving Scoobies, along with Andrew and Kennedy, seated on various couches, armchairs or on the floor.

"It's like Hellmouth HQ all over again," Spike muttered. "What's got the Scooby Gang all riled up? And why isn't Rona here?"

Buffy studied him quite seriously. "Because... Because they've lost their memory," she said quietly.

Spike blinked. "This hasn't involved any songs sung by their mothers setting them into a killing rage, has it?"

"Of course not!" Giles snapped, looking scornful.

"And who's 'they?'" Spike continued, ignoring Giles.

"Rona... and Vi. Out of the fives Slayers, including me, who survived, half of us have lost our memory," Buffy responded, looking at the ground, as if this was caused by her personal failure.

"Then where's Faith? And the crazy principal?"

Buffy's face darkened. "Faith and Wood are in England, trying to control the new Watcher's Council."

"Good luck to them," he muttered.

Xander raised an eyebrow, the one above his eye patch. "Amen to that!"

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, then Spike asked, "Any idea what's causing this?"

It was Willow who answered. "No clue." The red-haired witch was

"But that's such a good board game!" Andrew protested. "Oh... Never mind."

"Any others losing their memories?" Spike inquired, pointedly ignoring Andrew too. Buffy looked expectantly at Giles.

"Yes. At least ten others, which makes a dozen," Giles supplied grudgingly. He had the look of a child told he would need to have a tooth pulled out for some maniacal dentist's pleasure.

"How long has this been going on?"

"About a day." Two teeth.

Spike nodded slowly. He'd heard of something like this before. "You remember that singing demon?"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "How couldn't we?"

"His name is Sweet," Willow added.

"I sang about Warren," Andrew murmured dreamily.

"Right... Anyhow, this is some kind of demon like... Sweet, you said luv? Like him. Summoned, spell-effect, bride, gone," Spike explained.

Everyone looked at Xander. The one-eyed man looked back. "Whaaaat?" he complained.

"What's his name?" Kennedy asked, puttng an arm protectively around Willow's shoulders.

"Ai'Reshimal," Spike replied. "I think."

Just then, a scream split the air, shocking them out of their demonic contemplations...

--

Angelus bit into a Slayer's neck, reveling in the unique, fiery sensation of her blood sliding down his throat. It was like a exotic wine, one that he had secretly been craving ever since Buffy had cured him of the poison Faith had shot him with.

He released the girl and she crumpled to the ground. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he looked around for more prey. No one in sight. "Make it fast," he muttered to himself. "Before Buffy and friends arrive!"

"Too late, Angelus!" Andrew cried triumphantly from behind, along with the rest of the group.

"Meghan was supposed to be on watch..." Willow muttered. "Where...?"

"Dark brown hair and eyes?" Angelus sneered mockingly. "She decided evil was the way to go. Unlocked me and the girls, then I killed her." Then he turned and ran down the hall, toward the kitchen, where he found Taywen and Illyria fighting the severely reduced ranks of Slayers. Only four were still standing. He grabbed the nearest and drained her blood while the other two finished off the remaining three. He noticed that Taywen only knocked her Slayers unconcious, but have time ot think much on that – he could hear Buffy and company running towards them.

"Damn it!" he snarled, glancing over his shoulder. Willow was at the front of the little race, looking surprisingly evil, although she had allegedly almost destroyed the world before. Angelus seized her the moment she came within reach and shoved through the kitchen door, followed closely by Taywen and Illyria.

Then they disappeared into the darkness.

_Author's Note: Feel free to review... In fact, I'd appreciate it if everyone who read this reviewed, even if it is criticism. I promise I won't cry for too long if it is._

_Dentists scare me, I'm sorry._


	7. Some New Faces

As they ran, Willow started mumbling under her breath, probably some serious white magic mojo. Too bad for her.

Angelus, still holding the Wicca with one arm, grabbed a broken pipe that was conveniently sticking out from the alley wall and hit her on the temple lightly (for a vampire). The witch's eyes rolled to the back of her head and she slumped limply against him, unconcious.

"Where can we hide?" he muttered, more to himself than Taywen and Illyria.

But Taywen answered anyway. "I used to live here, couple of years back. 1990-something. Anyway, I know where the Hellmouth is, so why don't we hide out there somewhere. Demon-Slayer hatred thing and all that."

Angelus smiled. Perfect. "Lead on," he said simply.

The three ran up streets, down sidewalks, through burned-out buildings and under a destroyed bridge before arriving in a section near the heart of the city where the destruction was ten times worse than the outlying area.

"It just occurred to me," Illyria remarked. "Why is it that this Hellmouth is so active? From what Winifred Burkle remembers being told of this Sunnydale, it was never this bad."

"Demons're crazy angry," Taywen replied absently as her eyes scanned the buildings before them. "The closing of the Sunnydale Hellmouth was one thing – a small town, easy prey, all that. But then she got it in her head to close the rest... And not every demon was overly happy about that. She managed to close one in Hong Kong with the help of a powerful group of sorcerors called the 'Golden Guardians'. That's the closest translation into English there is. Anyhow, in the process most of the core members, the ones with the real power, were killed and apparently the girl didn't realize how important those magickal fellows were to her success, so now she's here to close this one," Taywen finished. "Don't get me wrong, there are a few of those Guardians here in Cleveland, but they're nothing compared to those who fell in Hong Kong."

"All the better for us," Angelus said indifferently. "Now, I suppose I just follow the smell of demon until it becomes overwhelming and I'll find the Hellmouth." He started off in the direction that smelled strongly of demons, the scents too jumbled together to pick out the individual breeds, but he thought he smelled something familiar...

Illyria and Taywen followed, and after a couple of minutes, the trio was glad to see dozens of demons milling aimlessly around a gaping hole in the center of the street, and... what appeared to be pinstripe-dressed lawyers from Wolfram & Hart, the Cleveland branch, in conversation with several of the more powerful-looking beings.

"Daddy!" Drusilla, Angelus' mad childe, appeared suddenly from within the shadow of a burnt-out building, moving toward them.

"Dru," Angelus said, but if he was surprised or pleased to see the vampiress, his face or demeanor didn't show it.

"That foul soul is gone," she said, swaying slightly, as if dancing to music only she could hear. Her raven hair hung down her back and she wore a red velvet dress that hugged her body. "And the naughty sun if hiding and sulking behind this beautiful darkness." She spread her arms and looked up at the huge black cloud that hung overhead, as if to hug it.

"Oh, wonderful," Taywen grumbled to Illyria. "Insane, and has the Sight on top of that!"

Drusilla glared at the girl. "Mrs. Edith doesn't like _you,_" she spat. "Dreadful, one with so much power, like my Angelus, cursed like you are!" This last, she whispered, as if it was a secret just between the two of them.

"No idea what you're talking about," Taywen shot back, her dislike of the vampiress evident.

Illyria studied Drusilla. "Who are you?"

She turned to stare at Illyria. "Much better," she mumbled, looking pleased. "Would you like to have a tea party with me?"

"Not now, Dru," Angelus said. "Where are you staying, childe of mine?"

Drusilla smiled. "Come see, Daddy! You'll like my friends." She stepped forward, her hand outstretched as if to take his arm, but she stopped and frowned at the unconcious woman in his arms, as if seeing her for the first time. "The stupid witch... Why does she yet live? _She's_ the one who gave you your foul soul back two times!"

He smiled coldly, the first display of emotion since Drusilla's appearance. "She will die soon," he promised her. "Then you will have a sister."

The vampiress recoiled. "No!" She looked around wildly. "Where's my Spike? I can smell him on you... But his smell's different somehow..."

"My guide is human now," Illyria replied. "Angel was quite upset about having Spike picked over him."

"And aren't you glad it was he, not me?" Angelus asked his childe.

Drusilla eyed him suspiciously, as if seeing him in a new light. "But you left me, and our family was destroyed," she said resentfully. "Then you staked Grandmum. You lost your soul after that, with that Slayer bitch, and you came back for a while... But you left us again! Spike was never the same after that... And now he's become a human again, and here you are." She seemed almost sane as she made that pronouncement. "But Spike was always faithful, always hurt me when I asked him to... Even after Sunnydale, he still tried to stay with me... But I knew! I knew he loved the Slayer, the same one that you had loved." She looked sad as she said this. "Can we kill her, Angelus? Kill the Slayer?"

He laughed, a cold, cruel sound. "Of course, Dru. Anything you want."

"Would you... would you let me turn dear Spike again? Darla's not here anymore, but it would be almost the same..." She pouted, looking expectantly at her sire.

"Anything you want," Angelus reiterated, although with considerably less enthusiasm than before. The two had slowly been moving closer to each other as they spoke, until they were scant inches apart.

"What of the witch?" Illyria asked, startling the two vampires.

"Turn her," Angelus said simply. "She's one of Buffy's most powerful allies, and without her she'll be seriously crippled."

"Crippled is good," Taywen muttered. "But dead is better."

"All in good time."

She shrugged. "Whatever. I'm going somewhere else; standing here was fun at first, but it seems to have become surprisingly boring."

Illyria nodded and offered Taywen her arm, which the girl took and the two walked away.

"That was... strange," Angelus muttered, before returning his attention to Drusilla. "Now show me where you're staying, Dru, and you can play with the little witch for a while."

--

Kennedy would have chased after them, if Buffy, Xander and Spike hadn't held her back. Her eyes flashed angrily as she struggled to escape there grip. Having found this futile, she twisted suddenly and kicked out at the three restraining her. Buffy released her momentarily, but only to catch her leg.

"Kennedy!" Buffy snarled. "You won't do Willow any good if you just die at the hands of those three!"

This seemed to wake her from her rage and her eyes cleared. She was the first to say something if Buffy was wrong, but she knew the elder Slayer was right in this particular case. "What else can we do?" she whispered, slumping back against a counter in the kitchen as Xander and Spike and Buffy released her. "What if he decides to... to kill her?"

"We'll help you find them, luv," Spike said. "I don't think he'll kill her." At least not for long, he added mentally.

But Kennedy's words seemed to penetrate right to the heart of the people around her, and there was a moment of silence as this sunk in. Angelus had Willow.

"We'll organize patrols, set up search parties," Giles said, quickly appraising the situation. "Five Slayers to a group."

"Ten," Buffy said suddenly. "Five's not enough."

"Eight," Kennedy countered, back on her feet, her brief moment of despair shaken off in the face of Willow's possible death.

Giles nodded, and he and Andrew disappeared into the hall, yelling for all the Slayers to meet in the front lobby.

"Do I get to patrol?" Dawn asked hopefully.

"No!" Buffy snapped. "We should leave at least twenty Slayers here, to defend our base, and those who can't fight." She looked pointedly at Dawn, who stalked away sulkily.

--

All told, there were about 180 Slayers in hotel, but only around three quarters of them were old enough to be fighting. Those under fourteen weren't permitted to patrol, although they were being trained for their eventual coming of age, so to speak.

Giles arranged the 115 or so girls into 11 groups of eight and three groups of nine, making their leader a girl who had shown initiative rather than the oldest, leaving two of the groups of eight for Buffy and Kennedy to lead and 30 to stay behind to protect the hotel.

"Did you tell them wht we're going to be doing?" Buffy asked her former Watcher.

The man shook his head. "I thought you would want to do that," he explained.

Buffy nodded and stood before the groups of Slayers who ranged from 14 to mid-twenties. "You're probably wondering why you're all here right now, in these groups. I'll have to start at the beginning for you to fully understand, but there's not enough time for that, so you'll just have to take me at my word." She paused a moment, collecting her thoughts, before continuing. "All of you know who Angelus is?" There was a murmur of assent. "He is loose in this city, and he has captured Willow." There was a sound of anger – the witch had many friends among the Slayers. "We need to find them before he kills her – or worse. I need you to help me there, but before you go out, you have to promise me you won't do anything stupid, like attacking them if you see them. The two women that he travels with are dangerous, and took down a dozen of ours without so much as a scratch. Keep to the shadows and try not to confront anyone, because we can't afford to lose more people. If you do manage to locate them, find me or Kennedy and we'll decide what to do from there. Understand?"

There was general nodding and some said "yes," but one girl raised her hand.

"Yes?"

"What do they look like?"

Buffy almost hit herself, surprised and annoyed that she had forgotten something as important as that. "One has blue-streaked brown hair and blue eyes and wears a brownish, reddish leather suit-thing. Another has short and spiky silver-streaked hair and silver eyes. She wears a black hoody and jeans. Angelus has dark brown hair and wears a leather coat. If you see them, don't fight!" she added, hoping none of them would be stupid enough to do so. "Even if they're alone, don't be fooled."

"Every minute you waste talking is another minute of Willow's life," Kennedy hissed. "We have to go, now!"

Buffy glared at the younger woman. "Let's go then." She walked up to the group reserved for her and led the girls out. Most of them looked frightened but determined, but one looked almost... excited.

The thirteen other group followed.

--

Spike was just about to go out to find someplace that had a lighter because he was starting to get little twitchy from nicotine deprivation, when a man who looked about twenty walked through the door. He had light brown hair and looked faintly familiar to the ex-vampire.

"He was here," the man muttered to himself, looking around. "But now he's gone..."

"Who you looking for, mate?" Spike heard himself ask.

The man's eyes snapped to him. "Angel," he said.

Spike winced. "He's kind of not here right now. Soul being gone and all. How'd you know him?"

"He lost his soul?" the man sounded more angry than surprised. "I'm his son, Connor."

"Son? Vampires can't have children."

Connor shrugged. "One of the Powers That Be made me, if that makes sense. Do you know where Angelus went?"

"They're out searching for him right now. The Slayers and all," Spike replied.

"I can track him faster than any human," he muttered. "Come with me. I can help you find him."

"And what do you plan to do once he's found? Have tea and crumpets?"

"Capture him, find a way to restore his soul. Didn't a witch do it last time?"

"Willow... See, thing is, he's captured her, probably to prevent just that from happening."

Connor nodded. "Well, we'll just have to save her in the process then, won't we?"

"Um, no offense, mate, but you look pretty scrawny," Spike remarked dubiously. A moment later, he found himself pressed against the wall, several inches off the ground with the man's hand around his neck, easily supporting him there. "Strong," he grunted. "So you're a vamp then?"

He released the blonde. "No. But I'm something like the human equivalent..."

"A male Slayer?"

"I guess..."

"Right then. Shall we go off on our suicide mission?"

"Don't be so cynical. I'm sure we'll take at least half of 'em down with us."

_Author's Note: I've never been to Cleveland. Just thought I should add that. Sorry about the ending. I feel like it could be better but I'm too lazy/tired to do anything about it. Please review, and thanks go out to all of you who have reviewed in the past. hands you a gold star_


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